Rafael learned, very quickly, that the phrase "she is coming" had consequences.
Gregoris straightened from his crouch in one smooth motion, already issuing orders with the same calm he used before raids, except this time his hand didn't leave Rafael until the last possible second, like he was refusing to let the world touch Rafael before he had to.
"Marin," Gregoris said, clipped.
The manor wards caught the name like a hook and carried it down the ether lines Gregoris had woven into the estate for emergencies, for breaches, for anything that dared threaten what he considered his.
Rafael felt it more than heard it - an invisible pull through the walls, a faint shift in the air, like the house itself had inhaled.
Minutes later, in his own office at the palace, Marin would hear it.
As a call in the wards, Gregoris's voice delivered by ether and authority, sharp enough to cut through whatever Marin had been doing and turn it instantly into this.
